


Cross Contamination

by onesec



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 12:30:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15291570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onesec/pseuds/onesec
Summary: Hank meets Gavin at the front door in his bathrobe, shivering. “I’m not gonna lie, Reed; people who ask me for favors on my nights off make my shitlistrealfast.”





	Cross Contamination

**Gavin Reed said at 10:45PM:**  U awake?

**Gavin Reed said at 10:45PM:**  Hey

**Gavin Reed said at 10:45PM:**  I can tell ur up dont leave me on read fucker

 

**Hank Anderson IS BUSY said at 10:46PM:**  WHAT IS IT

 

_Gavin Reed is typing…_

 

**Gavin Reed said at 10:46PM:**  Can i drop by ur house 

 

**Hank Anderson IS BUSY said at 10:46PM:**  Why

**Hank Anderson IS BUSY said at 10:46PM:**  I’m not on call tonight

**Hank Anderson IS BUSY said at 10:47PM:**  Can’t it wait

 

**Gavin Reed said at 10:47PM:** Its an emergency

**Gavin Reed said at 10:47PM:** I ned

**Gavin Reed said at 10:48PM:**  I need u to fuckin babysit

 

* * *

 

Hank meets Gavin at the front door in his bathrobe, shivering. “I’m not gonna lie, Reed; people who ask me for favors on my nights off make my shitlist  _real_ fast.”

“Hello to you, too,” says Gavin, his eyes narrowed contemptuously. "At least Bicentennial Man over there managed to prise you away from your evening forty." He smirks at his own joke. Hank grits his teeth. Supercilious fuckin’ reptile.

Gavin's RK900 is waiting by Gavin's car. Gavin snaps his fingers, beckoning the android to him. “I want you to keep this here until tomorrow morning, as we agreed." The RK900 moves into the bright circle of light under the porch lamp. Gavin reaches up and jabs him right in his LED. "You. Get inside."

The RK900 towers over Gavin. He could snap Gavin's neck if he were so inclined. Nevertheless, he does what the creep tells him to. "Good evening, Lieutenant Anderson," he says icily, unsmiling, and Hank stands aside to let him into the house.  _Don't blame me_ , he thinks.  _Not my fault Reed's turned all deadbeat dad_.

"I just need it out of the way for a couple hours," says Gavin nonchalantly. "I've got someone coming over in, uh--" he checks his watch, and his face falls-- "Fifteen minutes ago."

"Someone...?"

“It's none of your business.” Gavin looks shiftily between Connor and Hank. “And I'll thank you not to go spreading my private life all over the department."

Hank produces a wad of tissue from his bathrobe pocket and blows his nose. He enjoys watching Gavin prickle impatiently. "Well, it depends," he says at length, sniffling. "What's in it for me?"

Gavin throws up his hands. “I don’t have time to negotiate shit with you! I’m already screwed as it is. I’m really fuckin’ late.”

“Fine, no I.O.U.s,” grouses Hank, waving him away. “Take a fucking Xanax, why don't you.”

Gavin snatches his backpack off the ground. "I'll come by tomorrow to pick it up." He pauses, brandishing his keys under Hank's chin like a switchblade. “Break my shit and I’ll rip your dick off.”

“Duly noted.” Hank steps back and slams the door in Gavin's face.

 *

Inside, the RK900 is surveying Hank's cluttered living room. "Thank you for accommodating me at such short notice, Lieutenant," he says. His voice is more direct than Connor's, a little deeper. It seems to fill the whole room.

"Don't mention it, uh--"

RK900 understands the point of Hank's awkward pause. "I don't have a name," he says. He is very matter-of-fact about it, as only androids can be, but Hank can't help but loathe Gavin's emotional negligence.

"Technically he's also a 'Connor'," says Connor brightly. He is looking at the RK900 like Hank brought him home a new baby brother. He goes around showing him the different rooms in the house, the bookcase, the snowdrops in the backyard, then Sumo, who is spread out on the floor in front of the radiator. Connor demonstrates how to pet Sumo, taking RK900's hand and showing him the motions. "Now you try."

RK900 jerks his hand away when Sumo stirs. Connor rubs Sumo's ear in soothing circles. "He won't bite you. He's a good dog. He's a good dog, isn't he, Hank?"

Hank slumps onto the couch, too tired to keep up any pretension of dignity. "Yup," he says to himself. "One Connor is enough, thank you." He daubs at the fresh snot leaking out of his nose and tries to focus on whatever dull shit's on the TV.

“Lieutenant Anderson is ill," observes RK900, now petting Sumo with careful, even strokes.

"His system became infected with a rhinovirus five days ago." Connor sounds unhappy. He'd never seen Hank sick before now.

"Symptoms?"

"Sore throat, rhinorrhea, a fever."

The RK900 nods sagely. "Highly contagious. I can see why you're concerned."

"Ideally I would isolate the virus and quarantine it before it spreads."

"That would be prudent."

Hank turns the TV up. "Guys-- it's a cold. Android rules don't really apply to--"

"Lie quietly, Lieutenant," interrupts Connor sternly. "You need your rest." 

Hank huffs and shuts his eyes. "Yes, sir."

*

He thinks it's the TV that wakes him up, but there's no sound, only the bright images and bursts of action of a late night football recap. He flinches when something strokes the loose hair away from his face. "The fuck..."

He cracks an eye open. Connor is crouched in front of him, the back of his hand resting on Hank's sweaty forehead. He fixes Hank with a dopey smile. “Hello, Lieutenant.”

“Whaddya mean, ‘hello’? What the hell are you doing?”

"I'm monitoring you."

Hank eases himself onto the arm of the couch, his joints aching, burying his cheek in the cold side of his favorite cushion. "Eh, pretty sure I'm over the hump, Connor. You don't need to worry about me."

"I'm afraid I won't be satisfied until the virus has been dealt with. I've asked RK900 to assist me in checking you over."

Lo and behold, RK900 emerges from the shadows behind him, silent and spectre-like.  "I'd like you sit up for a moment," he says. He leans down and places an inquisitive hand over Hank's sternum. His LED flickers.

Hank shrinks from the contact. "Uh, should I be worried? You're not gonna go all  _tears in the rain_  and try to retire me, are ya?"

"You're perfectly safe, I assure you." RK900 stills for a moment, listening. Then, "May I see your back?"

"What?"

Connor pulls Hank's bathrobe and baggy tee down around his shoulders. "He wants to listen to your lungs." The hand returns, a pleasant weight against Hank's feverish skin.

"Breathe in."

Hank breathes in, his throat tickling. He really wants to cough.

"Thank you. Breathe out."

Hank lets the breath go in a rush.

"You are short of breath. I will analyze the data for symptoms of a possible chest infection."

"That really isn't necessary, I, uh--"

"It won't take a moment."

"I'll continue the checkup," says Connor. He insinuates himself between Hank's knees. “Make yourself comfortable, Lieutenant.” He opens Hank’s bathrobe, exposing his stomach. Then, quick as anything, he peels down the front of Hank's underpants.

“Whoa, wait--" Hank catches hold of Connor's wrists. "The fuck are you doing?" he grunts. "Not in front of..."

RK900 is standing over him, watching. "Don't mind me, Lieutenant," he says solemnly. "I won't tell Detective Reed."

"That's... that's not what I'm worried about here." Hank’s treacherous dick is stirring to attention.

Connor hefts it, assessing its weight, the tip almost touching his nose. "We want to help you, Lieutenant." He licks his lips, infatuated. “So, let us make you feel better." He lifts Hank's cock into his mouth.

“Oh, fuck, oh,  _shit_ \--”

Connor swallows eagerly, treating Hank to the soft and viscous grip of his artificial throat. He spits the cock out, toys with it, then deep throats it again, emitting a gooey purr of pleasure. The root of Hank's cock throbs, threatening orgasm. Too soon. He doesn't wanna let Gavin's android see-- "Connor,  _Connor, Connor_."

“ _Mglh_ ,” says Connor, pulling off. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Hank swallows, wincing since his throat's sore. He pets Connor’s head, ruffling his hair. "No offense, but this is the weirdest health assessment I've ever had." 

Connor smiles innocently. “But it's an assessment nonetheless, Lieutenant.”

"Your respiratory tract sounds clear," announces RK900. He is completely impassive, as if he hadn't just seen Lieutenant Hank Anderson get a sloppy blowjob from one of his own kind. There is a very, very long pause.

Hank takes the plunge. “Let me guess: you wanna 'help' too?”

“Yes,” says RK900 at once. He sinks gracefully to his knees, his steady gray eyes resting on Hank's erection. "Though I don't know where to begin."

Connor takes RK900's hand and guides it to wrap around the base of Hank's cock. He is so gentle when he wants to be. He gets RK900 to stroke up and down. "Human genitalia is very sensitive to tactile stimulation." Hank's cock twitches as if to illustrate his point. "See? Watch me, and then you do it." RK900 nods uncertainly as Connor sinks his throat back onto Hank's cock. RK900 puts his hand to the task when Connor pulls off.

When they've brought Hank inches from the brink, they stop. When he starts to soften they work on him together, bathing his dick with their tongues. They watch one another closely as they take turns blowing him, their LEDs blinking conspiratorially. When Hank anchors his hand in Connor’s hair, they gasp in unison. They clasp each other greedily and kiss with Hank’s cockhead between their lips.

Hank’s head thuds against the back of the couch. "I think I’m about to fuckin’ die.”

The androids break apart. RK900 frowns. "Are you sure? All your vital signs are accounted for."

"It's just a common cold, Lieutenant," adds Connor consolingly. They climb onto the couch and sit either side of him. Hank is uncomfortably aware of how the smell of his own musk is radiating off of them, and how Connor's hair is messy and limp from where he'd grasped it in big sweaty handfuls.

“What are you gonna do to me?” he asks warily.

RK900 flexes his fingers, looking oddly mischievous. “We're about to finish up your virus check.”

Connor grasps Hank’s thigh reassuringly. "It'll be over soon. Don’t worry.”

Together they reach down and start stroking Hank’s cock. A sweet, tingling shudder passes through him. “ _Oof_ , this is-- this is something else.”

Connor's voice sounds far away. “Are you beginning to feel better?” 

“Yeah,” says Hank woozily. “Hell yeah.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Lieutenant.” Connor flicks Hank's clothed nipple with his tongue. Hank hisses, squirming as RK900 draws his other nipple into his mouth and suckles it through the fabric. RK900 hooks one of his legs over Hank’s own. Connor mirrors him, rucking up Hank's damp t-shirt and pressing open-mouthed kisses to his stomach. They're not giving him any time to be self-conscious.

After a few minutes, Connor sits up and loosens his tie. "I think we should remove our outer garments. We wouldn't want to get them dirty."

"Of course." RK900 unlatches his collar, baring his long throat.

Hank also approves of this plan.

The androids shrug off their jackets and each helps the other out of his pants. Divested of their uniforms they look almost identical. Hank cranes his neck to see what they have going on down there. Endearingly, they're both wearing matching white briefs. He gropes them. They yield to his touch, trembling ever so slightly. Hank pushes his fingers through the leg hole of Connor's underwear, over his hip bone, up under the waistband. Connor's eyelashes flutter. " _Please_ , Lieutenant."

"Well then, help me out here." Connor hooks his fingers into the waistband and assists Hank in pulling the briefs down. He shimmies out of them and kicks them aside. Underneath he has the customary featureless groin of a law enforcement model. The sight no longer makes Hank's insides squirm. It's just... nice. Kinda sexy, in its own way. As soon as Hank's rolled down RK900's underwear, the androids are clambering all over each other, forcing Hank to take the far end of the couch. 

“Let’s--”

“Yes, and then you--”

“So that we can both--”

RK900 guides Connor to straddle his lap, spreading his knees so that their groins are pressed together. He licks his palm and smears it against himself, making himself wet. He does the same for Connor. “It is regrettable that we are not equipped for penetrative intercourse,” he tells Hank over Connor’s shoulder. “But-- use us as you see fit.”

"Uh, okay." Hank lowers himself painfully to the floor. His bones are not what they used to be. His head is pounding, his nose is running like a faucet, but he'll be damned if he doesn't finish what they fuckin' started. He's a warrior. “I really don't see what this has to do with me getting over this cold, but-- okay. Okay.” He steadies himself on RK900's parted thighs. His cock presses against those two soft mounds, the tip probing the seam of flesh where they’re joined.

Connor makes a tight, anxious noise, wriggling against the intrusion. RK900 holds him steady. "I'm sorry," pants Connor. His LED is red. "Keep going."

“I won’t hurt you, Connor.” Hank thrusts in for real this time, bracing himself on Connor’s lower back. “I’ve got you.” He can’t seem to catch his breath. He can't take the sight of his cock sandwiched between their bodies, the head flushed a deep, desperate shade of purple. He won’t last. He’s already held on for so long.

RK900 plies Connor with long, wet kisses. Their hands are linked tightly together. The flesh is melting away wherever their bodies touch. The skin around Hank's cock turns slick and supple as it makes direct contact with their bare chassis. “Release the virus inside of us,” says RK900, his voice hitching as Hank’s thrusting jolts them up against the couch cushions.

"Yes." Connor's free hand finds Hank's hand on his hip. “Use us, Lieutenant. We'll take good care of you.”

"That's not how it works--  _Fuck_ \--" Hank stabs his cock in as hard as he dares, his hair sticking to his cheeks, his sweat dripping onto Connor's flawless skin. RK900 groans sharply. It catches Hank by surprise. He thought they didn't have nerves down there. Or sensors, or whatever. But something about this angle must be hitting them just right. He drives into that spot, hitting it again and again.

Connor grasps Hank’s wrist. “Lieutenant," he gasps. Hank feels the synthetic muscles of his pelvic floor tighten. “Lieutenant, Lieu-- Anderson, Hank, _Hank_ \--”

Hank cums, still thrusting, fucking through his own semen. Each wave of the orgasm is strong and protracted, prolonged by the grip inside their makeshift opening. It tears all the strength out of him. When he's done he slides out and sits heavily on the carpet. Their purpose fulfilled, the two androids peel themselves apart, their flesh glistening with Hank’s fluids.

“Good work, Lieutenant,” says RK900 briskly, smoothly resuming his former aloofness. "I would like to decontaminate. May I use your bathroom?"

Hank flops forward onto Connor's lap. "Be my guest." Talk about hit it and quit it.

Connor helps Hank back onto the sofa. He dutifully helps Hank redress, pulling down his shirt, tucking him back inside his underpants. He is still naked himself, aside from his shirt. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got fuckin' steamrolled." Hank sneezes. "And, I'm sorry to say--" he sneezes again-- "I'm sorry to say that you didn't get rid of the virus."

"Of course we didn't," frowns Connor. "You can't transmit a cold virus through sexual contact."

"Then what the hell did you just do?"

"What?" Connor slides Hank's bathrobe back over his shoulders and pulls the front of it closed. The corners of his mouth quirk minutely. " _Oh._  It's called 'roleplay'. RK900 says Gavin's browser history taught him that."

 

* * *

**Gavin Reed said at 12:09PM:**  Hey

**Gavin Reed said at 12:10PM:**  Fowler wants to know if u can come in tomrrow

**Gavin Reed said at 12:10PM:**  Thanks for giving me your cold btw

 

**Hank Anderson IS BUSY said at 12:23PM:** Fuck no i'm still sick 

**Hank Anderson IS BUSY said at 12:23PM:** And you're welcome

**Hank Anderson IS BUSY said at 12:24PM:** How was your hot date last night

 

**Gavin Reed said at 12:24PM:** Woudlnt u like to know

**Gavin Reed said at 12:24PM:** RK900s cleanin up the aftermath LOL

**Gavin Reed said at 12:24PM:** She was fuckin hot though

**Gavin Reed said at 12:24PM:** Maybe Ill send u a pic

 

**Hank Anderson IS BUSY said at 12:26PM:** No thanks, I already know what your right hand looks like

 

**[Gavin Reed has blocked you from the conversation.]**


End file.
